


Glowing

by orphan_account



Category: Smosh
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, My First Fanfic, Probably ooc, Unrequited Love, there's blood and stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23627329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Courtney used to love flowers.This is my first fanfic I'm not a writer I just needed a courtivia hanahaki AU. sorry if the formatting is weird i wrote the whole thing on my phone
Relationships: Courtney Miller/Olivia Sui, Shayne Topp/Damien Haas (background)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 35





	Glowing

**Author's Note:**

> yeah this sucks sorry

Courtney used to love flowers. As a kid, her grandmother had a huge garden filled with dozens of different types of bright, beautiful flowers. Courtney learned to care for each and every one of them. As an adult, she planted her own garden next to her small house, and cared for the flowers like they were her children.

Courtney used to love flowers, before one fateful day in the Smosh office when she coughed up a singular yellow petal.

She stared at the petal in horror. She knew of the disease, everyone did. She just never thought it would happen to her.

“Courtney? You good?” asked Olivia, waving her hand in front of Courtney’s face. “You totally just spaced out there.”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m ok. I’m just kind of out of it today.”

“Oh goo--”

“Okay gotta go bye Livliv!”

“Bye?” Olivia stared in confusion as Courtney rushed off.

Courtney rushed into the nearest single-stall unisex bathroom and locked the door. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” she muttered to herself staring at the crumpled yellow petal in her hand. She’d known her crush on Olivia would be the death of her, but not literally. She coughed again, this time expelling three petals from her lungs. Those three tiny petals confirmed it: she had Hanahaki. “Fuck.” she muttered one more time.

She rushed back to her desk, and discreetly as possible, typed in hanahaki disease cure. The first result that came upwas obviously not an option: getting Olivia to love her back. Olivia was straight, and she was also dating Sam. Courtney would never try to interfere with Olivia’s relationship. The second result was far more promising: surgery. It could end in Courtney never feeling romantic love again, but she was ok with that as long as she got to live. She was getting excited about her chance of actually being cured until she saw the price. 900,000 to 1.2 million dollars. Holy shit. Courtney was a youtuber, she didn't have that kind of money at her disposal. Her last option was to just pray it would fade. And if it didn't fade after 6 months, she would die. The reality of her situation hit her like a sack of bricks. _I could die. Shit, I could really die._

Courtney chose the most convenient method of coping at the moment: denial. She closed her tabs about hanahaki, she threw away the petals, she continued working, and she prayed she wouldn't cough on set later while filming. But even as she moved through her day ignoring the petals she coughed up, pretending that her rushed trips to the bathroom were because of digestive issues, saying she was perfectly fine, the quiet thought lingered in the back of her head for the rest of the day. _I could die. I could die. I could die._

Courtney lived this way for the next six months minus one day. She pretended there weren't vines and flowers growing in her lungs, pretended that she wasn't coughing up bright yellow petals every day. She pretended she wasn't paying attention to the looming six-month mark, the day that would determine whether she would live without the flowers for the rest of her life, or if she would die to them.

On the day exactly six months after the first petal appeared, she called in sick to work and waited on her couch for a seizing in her throat, for petals to fall past her lips. She felt almost like she was waiting for a doctor to come into the waiting room and tell her whether she would live, or if she should write her will.

Nothing happened all day, and Courtney was overjoyed. She really did it! She beat hanahaki! She was nearly jumping out of sheer joy as she went to bed early at 9:40 and fell into a peaceful sleep. Until at 11:55 she woke with an itch in her throat and a pounding in her chest. _No, no, no, no…_ she thought frantically, rushing through her living room towards the kitchen for a glass of water. _I just need water. That's it. That's it. I’m not going to die. I’m going to be fine. I’m fine._ Courtney was not, in fact, fine. Her breath caught as she was seized by a sudden fit of coughing and she fell onto her couch. When she finally stopped coughing, her lap was covered in bright yellow petals and in her hand was one fully bloomed flower.

Courtney looked at the fully bloomed flower in her hand, not quite comprehending its significance, and knew what it was immediately. It had been her favorite flower as a kid. She wondered what it symbolized, and was immediately curious. It was a bad idea, she knew that. Nonetheless, she opened her computer and googled: yellow chrysanthemum flower meaning. She stared at the first result in mild disbelief. A yellow chrysanthemum blossom signifies neglected love or sorrow. Neglected love or sorrow. It was so fucking ironic, so ridiculous, Courtney started laughing. She was finally broken. She laughed and laughed and laughed at her own stupid fate, somehow ending up on her living room floor curled into a ball. The line between laughing and crying blurred, and Courtney wasn't quite sure whether the tears rolling down her cheeks were from disbelieving laughter or unbearable sadness. Either way, she was near hysterical.

“Neglected love or sorrow,” she said to no one, giggling by herself in her empty apartment. “I've got both of them down! I win! And the prize is… death!” She deepened her voice on the last word, sending her into another fit of laughter, quickly turning into coughs that sent scratchy flowers tearing up her throat and out of her mouth. She didn't notice the tiny specks of blood on the petals. (Or maybe she chose not to notice.)

She stared at the bright flowers surrounding her head like some fucked up version of a halo. A halo that filled her apartment with the sickly sweet smell of unrequited love. Apparently love smelled like an ugly bouquet you give to someone when you’re sorry, but not enough to actually say so.

 _Maybe if I lay here long enough, I’ll just die. Here on my living room floor. She thought weakly. Wouldn't that be artistic and beautiful and all that bullshit?_ Courtney shook her head and forced herself to get up. She wouldn't die here. She couldn't. She walked over to her mirror, and almost didn't recognize her reflection. The girl in the mirror has disheveled blond hair that looked like it hadn't been washed (or brushed) in a week. The girl’s makeup was smudged all over her face, and was streaked with tears. But what really differentiated this girl from the Courtney from 6 months ago was the desperation and brokenness in her eyes. She looked like someone who had nothing to lose, like a maniac who would do anything to win the game of life. Courtney stared into those eyes, stared at her shaking hands. _I wonder if I’ll go crazy_ , she thought. _I wonder if I already am._

_______________

Almost exactly a month later, Courtney was hunched over on her bed, coughing up chrysanthemums into her hands when finally, blood sputtered from her lungs, covering her lips and hands with the sticky red liquid. She stared at her hands in horror and realization. _Oh god, I’m dying. I’m dying. I am going to die. I don't want to. I don't want to die._ Tears streamed down her cheeks as she whispered to herself, “I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I…” She finally knew she was dying, and she finally knew she couldn't keep it just to herself. It was almost 2 in the morning, but she also knew she couldn't be alone.

It was pouring out, but _Courtney_ made her way to her car and started driving without even thinking about where she was going. The rain pounded on the car roof, matching the pounding in her chest. _I don’t want to die._ Her hands, still covered in dried blood, gripped the steering wheel tighter. _I don't want to die._ She pulled into Shayne’s driveway. Apparently that was where her subconscious took her for an understanding and sympathetic ear. _The shourtney shippers would go crazy over that_ , giggling to herself. _Courtivia for life! That won't be very long anyways._

Praying that Shayne was still awake, she knocked on his door once, twice, three times. She stood in the pouring rain until almost a full minute later, Shayne opened the door.

“Courtney?” he said, confused.

Courtney immediately threw herself into his arms. “ I don't want to die, I don't want to die, please, Shayne, fuck, I don't want to fucking die…”

Shayne stumbled back a bit. “Um, ok, shh, you’re, uh, you're not going to die. You're ok.” he said, patting her back a bit.

Damien appeared in the doorway. “Courtney? What are you…?” He trailed off, noticing Courtney’s hands. “Court, why the fuck are your hands covered in blood?”

“Oh hey Dami--” Courtney’s words were cut off by another coughing fit that brought her to her knees, leaving flowers and blood scattered over Shayne’s living room floor. Shayne and Damien stared in horror at the flowers that ripped up their friend’s throat, at the blood dripping from her lips.

“Oh, Courtney…” Shayne whispered, knowing what it meant.

“How long?” Damien asked gently, kneeling and wiping the blood from her lips with his sleeve.

“Seven months.”

“Can you still get surgery?” Shayne asked.

“Too expensive.”

“Are you sure? I can loan you--”

“900000 dollars, Damien. You're a youtuber, you don't have that kind of money.”

Shayne led the three of them to his couch, and wrapped a blanket around Courtney's wet shoulders.

“I know it's hard, but… have you considered telling Olivia? She could love you back, and you don't really have anything to lose.” Shayne was tentative with his statement, half knowing it just wasn't true.

“First, if she loved me back, all this,” Courtney said, gesturing to the blood and flowers on the floor, “wouldn't be happening. Second, I could lose my last few months with her. She could be weirded out and avoid me, or even if she didn't things just wouldn't be the same. Third, how did you know it was Olivia?”

Shayne and Damien exchanged a look.

“Well, I mean…” Damien started slowly, “You just… you look at her like she's the world. Like she hung the moon and the stars for you.”

“Also, you always kiss her. It's a little bit obvious.” Shayne added.

“Oh, like how you and Damien obviously love each other?” She snapped, regretting her words instantly. “I’m so sorry, that was an assholish thing to say, I’m just feeling… overwhelmed, and all that, and I was worried that if it's that obvious maybe she knows, and I lashed out, and I’m really fucking sorry.”

Shayne hid his hurt well. “It's ok, you’re dealing with a lot right now, which can cause you to metaphorically bubble over and lash out if anything more is added.”

“Don't you psychology me.” Courtney laughed, swatting Shayne a little.

“Sorry, instinct.” Shayne said, laughing a little too.

The mood was instantly dampened when Courtney was overtaken again by another coughing fit, this one so painful it brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes. Damien, on Courtney’s right side, rubbed circles on her back, while Shayne, on Courtney’s left side, threw a blanket over her lap so that she wouldn't get blood all over her pants.

Once she stopped coughing, the reality of Courtney’s fate hit her again, reminding her that she was going to die. She suddenly realized Smosh would have to make a video about her death. _They won't even know the real reason I died._ The fans would see the video, and they would cry and make tributes and all that but eventually their lives would go on. Her’s wouldn't.

Courtney didn't even realize she was crying until she felt her tears drip onto her hands. “I don't want to die.” she whispered. “I don't want to die.”

Shayne and Damien didn't say anything. Silent tears streamed down their face as they wrapped their arms around Courtney. Courtney buried her face in Damien’s chest, soaking it with tears. She wishes she could freeze time right here, squished in between two of her best friends as they comforted her. Alas, the best she could do was stay there until she fell asleep. So that is exactly what she did.

_______________

Courtney was awoken by the deafening sound of a fire alarm going off and Shayne rushing to open the windows while Damien tries to shut the alarm off. She realized she was covered by a blanket on Shayne’s couch, and her hands were clean of blood. Her heart swelled with love for her friends.

“Ah shit, we woke her up.” Shayne said over the fire alarm.

“What time is it?” asked Courtney, right as Damien managed to get the fire alarm to shut up.

“It’s like 12:30 or so,” said Damien.

“Shoot dude, really? I slept for forever.” Courtney coughed up a few blood-speckled petals. “How did you two set off the fire alarm?”

“So apparently, Shayne is a big ol’ dumbass who doesn't know how frying things works, so he didn't turn the overhead fan on or open the windows. And since frying stuff makes smoke, he set the alarm off.”

“Hey, in my defense, that alarm never works!” Shayne said, somehow under the impression that his statement was a good defense.

“Concerning, but ok,” Courtney yawned. “Do you have the eggs though? That's the important part.”

“They’re burnt, but still technically edible. Come and get them!” Shayne said, placing the eggs on the table.

Courtney started to head over when she started coughing again, and collapsed on the floor. Shayne and Damien rushed to her side, but there was nothing they could do. Eight beautiful chrysanthemums speckled with blood tore up Courtney’s throat and fell into her hands, giving her an idea.

“Hey Shayne, do you have any vases?” asked Courtney.

“Yeah, I’ll go get one.” Shayne said, understanding what Courtney wanted to do. He returned with a pink and white vase that went perfectly with the yellow chrysanthemums. Courtney filled it with the flowers, added some water, and placed it on Shayne’s table.

“There,” Courtney said, patting the flowers, “You have something to remember me by when I’m gone.”

The three of them were silent for a minute, knowing that it wouldn't be long until that happened. Suddenly, Courtney realized what she had to do.

“I have to go.” She said, turning to Shayne and Damien.

“Courtney--” Damien started.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Courtney smiled with tears in her eyes as she walked out the door.

_______________

Once Courtney got in the car she called Keith, then Noah, asking them to come to her place for an urgent meeting. Once they got there, Courtney sat them down on the couch, which was still covered in petals and leaves and flowers and dried blood, and told them everything. By the end of her story, they were all crying, but there were more important matters at hand than comfort. Specifically, the video telling the fans she was gone. Forever. She needed them to be completely up front about it, tell the fans exactly what happened (minus the Olivia part, of course) and make sure that Smosh wouldn't be pestered and questioned about it. She didn't want anyone to hurt more than they already would. Lastly, she needed it to be a fundraiser for LGBTQ+ nonprofit. She needed some good to come out of her death. She needed someone to be saved in her place.

With everything in place, she knew she could die now. She knew she would die now. But still, she got down on her knees, shaking, and prayed to live.

_______________

That night, she woke up at 4 in the morning, barely able to breath. Every breath tore at her throat, her lungs, her heart. Everything hurt. Tears streamed from her eyes as she tore flower after flower out of body, a torrent of blood raining from her lips. _Fuck the flowers. Fuck them they hurt fuck flowers._ Painfully making her way to her garden, she grabbed a shovel. _Fuck the flowers._ She tore and smashed every flower in the garden. She destroyed every flower she could until they were barely recognizable. Flowers kill. I don’t want to die… Courtney stumbled back into her living room, falling onto her back on the carpet and laid there she hacked up more and more flowers until they surrounded her body. Hundreds of yellow chrysanthemums. _Neglected love or sorrow._

Courtney Miller is found dead on her living room floor at 10:37 AM on December 14. The police say she was surrounded completely by bright yellow flowers. They say she looked like she was glowing.

They say she looked like an angel.

**Author's Note:**

> again sorry also there were chrysanthemums at her funeral
> 
> it's 3 in the morning and i have online school at 8:45 RIP me i guess


End file.
